


Remember

by brokenemotions



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Sherlock - Freeform, painlock, teen!lock, twinlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-07 23:25:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1918020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenemotions/pseuds/brokenemotions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A father who's always too busy with his work, a mother who is almost never sober and a sister who sneaks off partying all the time, John Watson is tired of being alone. But when John's father decides to move closer to his job at the hospital, the boy meets someone who completely turns his life around. This mysterious genius is possibly the greatest thing John Watson could ever have happen to him...or one of the worst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Who are you?

**Author's Note:**

> My first time actually posting my stuff online! :3 Don't be afraid to comment. (I've edit this the best I could.)  
> This is just a small fun little story I came up with one night. Thought I'd share.

“John Watson!”  
“What?! Can’t you just leave me alone!?”  
“Can you just listen to me?”  
“Fuck off.”  
“STOP WALKING AWAY FROM ME!”  
“…”  
“I…I was afraid of this. Afraid this would happen. Afraid you’d leave me.”  
“You were dead…”  
“I love you…”  
“Stop.”  
“I love you, John Watson.”  
“You’re a monster.”  
“Could you ever love a monster?”  
**  
My parents decided it was a good idea to move the summer before I graduate from school. We lived in the City of London, I really enjoyed living there. I had a girlfriend, good friends. It was nice getting out of the flat, walking anywhere, going to stores or cafes. I could do the same here, but it’s not as enjoyable. I’m in love with the City. My sister Harriet was more torn about this move then me. She couldn’t stand leaving her girlfriend. The City is only 30mins away and I still have to listen to her whining in my ear day in and day out about how horrible this place is. She’s starting to drink a lot…like mum.  
My school isn’t far from my flat. Pretty easy commute. Seven Kings High School. Not much to tell you about this school besides the fact that the kids are more dickish here than they were in my old school. I’ve been here two weeks and I’ve only met two people. A boy named Christof, (hates every human being on the planet.) And…a genius, a madman…  
**  
“Sherlock Holmes! Do you have an answer?”  
I look up from my books. Sherlock Holmes always has an answer, for everything. I always find his answers to be so…what’s the word? Astonishing. He never ceases to amaze me. Course the other kids feel differently. There are rumors going around that some arseholes beat the shite out of the Holmes, for what? I guess for being smart? Or gay, that’s another rumor. They say he’s sleeping with a boy named Alexander. I see Sherlock with Alex often but not that often.  
It’s weird how everywhere I go I find myself looking for Sherlock. My eyes always seem to wander around the halls. I always find myself wondering what in the world Sherlock could be doing at that moment. I can’t even explain this small obsession I have with the boy. I just find him so mysterious.  
I wanted to know everything about him. I went up to Holmes my second day of school and asked him if he wanted to hang out.  
“I don’t ‘hangout’ with ordinary people.”  
I could see why people would want to punch him. “Ordinary” people, is that how he sees us? He’s a rude dick-head but I still find him fascinating. I still want to know what’s going on in that mind of his.  
As I listen to Sherlock explain his answer on the math problem, I hear a cough-  
“Co-queer!”  
I turn my head to the boy next to me. Dmitri. It’s the same thing every day in this class. The boy mocks Sherlock every time he goes up to speak. It’s rude. I know Sherlock is different, but it’s fucking wrong to make someone look like a fool in front of a whole class of kids. What’s worse is that I hear some giggles. People actually find this funny? Sherlock continues on though.  
“Co-fag-oh!”  
“CO-NERD!”  
The giggling gets louder. I can feel a rage inside me. My mother and sister told me to control my rage. Sometimes I can let it take over my actions and just beat someone with a bloody stick. Not my proudest moment in my childhood. The teacher tells the twats to shush but they keep talking, lower this time, totally ignoring Sherlock.  
“Thank you,” Sherlock finishes then takes his seat. Not one damn prick listened to Sherlock-  
BOOM!  
I slam my fist on my desk. It’s silent. My turn to talk…  
“You’re a rude lousy prick, you know that Dmitri?” I keep my voice low and full of hate, my eyes never leaving Dmitri’s. Come on, it’s just me and you now, tit. I see a smirk slide on the boys face. The next thing I know my fist is burning with pain and Dmitri is on the floor screaming like a child.  
“JOHN WATSON!! To the headmaster’s office, NOW!” The teacher is pointing to the door. I can finally feel my rage turn into embarrassment as I hear giggles, claps and insults thrown my way as I walk out the door.  
**  
I don’t want to be liked by arseholes anyway. Calling someone names, you want to be that way, be that way, fine. Doing it in front of a class? What a low way to insult someone.  
I got detention for a week. I ask myself if it was worth it. Oh, God yes. It felt good. I love standing up to pricks like them. Doesn’t matter much either, mum’s too drunk to really care and dad is barely ever home, so when I see him I don’t really get into the details of my life. He just shoos me away after awhile anyway.  
Sherlock came up to me the next day.  
“Yesterday…about what you- uh- I wanted-“ The boy looks around the halls nervous, almost like he’s never spoken to another human being before. I look around with him then meet his eyes. Those eyes. I can’t even explain the shade of blue…I have to pull away from the stare, looking at my locker that’s beside me. “It-…”  
“Sherlock,” I put my hands up to stop him, “it’s no big deal. Dmitri had it coming.”  
“No one’s ever-“ Sherlock’s voice trails off.  
“Ever? Come on,” I offer a smile, how in the world has no one else stuck up for this guy? “You can’t say I’m the only one!”  
“My name is Sherlock Holmes, you already…seem to know that,” Sherlock introduces. I nod-  
“John Watso-“ Sherlock’s holding his hand out in front of me to shake my hand, “Watson.” I take his hand firmly in mine, smiling as are eyes meet again. It’s rare meeting someone my age with such manners. “So would you like to go to lunch then?” Sherlock turns so his back is facing me and says…  
“I’m busy,” the boy turns his head a little just enough to look at me and gives me a small smile, “would you like to join me?”  
I honestly didn’t know exactly what Sherlock likes to do on his free time. We wind up at the hospital were my father works. Holmes has some connections at this hospital. They let him use a room for his science experiments, which is exactly what we winded up doing all afternoon. I have to admit I could barely understand half the stuff Sherlock had me doing but…it was fun, it was different.  
He’s different. I feel like I’ve known him for a really long time. We just worked. Like I was the unfinished puzzle and he was the last piece. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.  
**  
“John!! JOHN LOOK AT ME!”  
“Uh…”  
“NO! DON’T CLOSE- don’t shut your eyes! Keep your eyes on me!”  
“Sh-”  
“LOOK AT ME JOHN!”  
“…”  
“Don’t- you can’t leave me- don’t leave me. John-“  
“…”  
“John…”  
“…”  
“Why…? Why would you do this?”  
“What did big brother say to us Sherlock? Don’t. Get. Involved. Human error. That’s all it is. It’ll be the death of you one day.”

To be continued…


	2. His Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been three months since Sherlock Holmes and John Watson have met and in only three months seem inseparable. Even through all the stunts that Sherlock pulls and even though dealing with Sherlock also means dealing with his twisted twin brother, Samuel Holmes, who, unlike Mycroft and Sherlock, lacks intelligence. John is determined to never lose the friendship between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent a good hour writing that horrible summary, pppfffttt!

I’ve only known Sherlock for a good three months. So why does it hurt so much? Three months and I consider him my best friend. Am I crazy? I’d do anything for him. I wanted to save him. I wanted to-

I’ve tried writing, I’ve tried talking about it to therapists. I went to my father as well. He heard about the shooting in the news, he had enjoyed my friendship with Sherlock. Sherlock and my father are so much alike it’s almost scary, but the only thing my father said was:  
 _“That’s life, John.”_  
I wanted to scream in his face, but I’ve controlled myself. The same couldn’t be said for Dmitri, the smartarse kept going on and on about how it was only a matter of time before someone shot Sherlock. I beat him pretty bad.  
That’s not going to bring Sherlock back.  
Nothing is going to bring Sherlock back…he’s gone. Sherlock Holmes…my best friend…  
The cops are saying it was Alex who shot Sherlock. I don’t quite understand that part. Alex and Sherlock were pretty close. Sherlock told me they were friends since they were small school boys. Why in the world would Alex kill Sherlock?  
The whole thing seems like a nightmare to me. Every night I think I’m going to wake up and see Holmes had snuck into my room and decided to sleep on the ground. Every morning I expect Holmes to be sitting at my desk playing with some sort of experiment. Every morning I watch where I step…afraid I might step on him like I’ve done so many times in the past.  
But now…my room is always empty. Just like it used to be before I met HIM.  
It's hard waking up sometimes, kinda like today. The sun is to bright and I just want to crawl back under the sheets and get lost in my nightmares again. It doesn’t feel like three weeks have past already.  
I stare at my desk chair instead.  
 _“I asked you where you keep your scissors.”_  
“Sherlock, I was ASLEEP. What are you doing here anyway!? It’s five in the morning!”  
“I was bored.”  
I smile at the random memory that passed through my mind. As much as I wanted to just sit in my room and do nothing all day, life called me.  
**  
School is back to being a boring everyday thing now. Dull. It was always dull, but he brought color into it. Oh, hell. Can I go one second of the day without thinking about him?!  
I have to stop. I’m going to kill myself with these thoughts. It needs to end. It was three weeks ago. I have to get over it.  
I’m not afraid to admit I’m slightly afraid of death. Thinking about Sherlock, he was alive. He was sleeping in my room, talking to me. Now…  
No matter where I look. No matter how hard I try to find him. How hard I scream his name. He’ll never show up. It’s like someone erased him. That thought scares me.  
After school I decide to go to Sherlock’s grave. As soon as I arrive it starts to rain. The bloody cold doesn’t help either. My eyes fall to Sherlock’s name. As soon as reality hits me again, the cold doesn’t seem to matter anymore. I can’t tear my eyes away from the name.  
‘Sherlock…God, do you know how you made me feel? Do you have any idea? You changed everything for me, turned my life around. I was afraid to admit it before…but now…Sherlock, I love you. I just wanted you to know that. I’ve insulted you a lot while you were alive, so I thought you should know…how I really felt about you. How- I really FEEL about you. Sherlock. Stop being dead. Please? Please don’t be dead. Pop out from behind that tree and tell me it was another one of your experiments. Please God…’  
I don’t realize the tears running down my face along with the rain until after I’m done praying. I bring my hand up and cover my eyes. I feel so ashamed crying like this. Like a child.  
“It’s a real shame isn’t it?”  
I look up to see a boy. A boy who looks almost exactly like Sherlock. Not Sherlock though, Samuel. Samuel Holmes. Sherlock’s twin brother. He may have the face of Sherlock but he's nothing, NOTHING alike. Just a boy who’s looking to cause pain any chance he can get. The first time I met Sam he was torturing a cat, Mycroft was there to stop him, but when Mycroft isn’t around…the boy is a complete psychopath.  
It turns my stomach to see this evil bastard at Sherlock’s grave.  
“Yeah, Sam, it is,” I reply and turn to walk away, hopefully I can get out of this conversation before it even starts. I don’t need this aggravation right now.  
“You know my brother loved you, John,” I can hear the smug in Sam’s voice, he’s trying to get under my skin. Like he always doesn't whenever I'm around. I should walk away but I turn around to face his smug grinning face that looks disgustingly identical to Sherlock's.  
“And, you would know?”  
“Of course! He is, after all, my twin. We just know each other.”  
“That’s not how it works.”  
“It is in my world.”  
I hate how this boy just says things. He doesn’t think his words through. That doesn’t even make sense. I turn away from Sam. This mad idiot isn't worth my time.  
“He’s better off dead, John. My brother has too much power. The hero’s always die,” Samuel gives a small chuckle.  
I lose my temper and run toward Sam. I grab his collar and slam him against the tree. Seeing Sam’s face, he’s eyes, so close almost hurts. Those eyes…Sherlock’s eyes…I let Sam go and look away. Sam laughs then fixes his shirt.  
“What’s wrong? Can’t hit me?”  
“Good-bye, Sam,” this time I keep walking, if I stay I could seriously hurt Samuel. I’ll just tell Mycroft to keep him far away from me. As I make my way to the road I hear:  
“He’s going to hurt you, John! He's just using you!"  
I stop walking for a second to think those words through. Who's using me? Sherlock is dead. I know bloody well that Sherlock wasn't using me. He wasn't...  
**  
I don’t let Sam’s words bother me for long. As I walk down the road my mind wanders to what in the world I’m going to do the rest of the bloody day. I turn into an alley, a short cut to my flat, might as well just go home and write in my journal.  
“John Watson!”  
I stop in my tracks. Of course, Samuel would get me in a dark alley. He’s probably going to skin me alive or something. I look down and sigh, putting my hands in my pockets. In front of me Sam walks out from a side alley. He’s a good distance away from me. I didn’t bring my gun. The gun I stole from my father. I always keep it under my bed. I don't know why. This situation would be a good reason why, actually. To bad it's UNDER THE BLOODY BED!  
“What?! Can’t you just leave me alone?!” I yell then turn around and try to make my way out of the alley. People, witnesses.  
“Can you just listen to me?” Sam reaches me before I could make it out of the alley. He grabs my arm. I shove his hand off as hard as I can.  
“Fuck off,” I try again to walk away from Sam.  
“STOP WALKING AWAY FROM ME!”  
I stop. The shouting. I’ve never heard Sam shout before, he's always got that calm condescending voice that makes you want to punch him every time he speaks. I rub my eyes. I just want this day to be over. So finally I turn around and my eyes me with-  
Sherlock.  
Have you ever swam in the ocean and a big wave suddenly hits you unexpectedly, knocking the air out of your lungs and you can't breath cause you're struggling under water for a few seconds? Well that's exactly how I feel when I turn and see that it isn't Sam but Sherlock, dead, KIA, I saw you get lowered into your grave, Sherlock bloody fucking Holmes.  
I'm seeing a bloody fucking ghost.  
“I…I was afraid of this. Afraid this would happen. Afraid you’d leave me,” Sherlock says in a low voice.  
Is this a dream? Am I dreaming right now?  
“You were dead…” I didn’t even want to speak, those words just slipped out of my mouth like I had no control.  
“I love you…” Sherlock’s eyes never leave mine.  
That was another blow by the wave. Not only is my best friend, who I thought was dead a couple of seconds ago, alive but in LOVE with me? No, that's just Sherlock's social awkwardness, he's trying to make me not punch him in the face. It's not working Sherlock.  
I don’t even know what to say, my shock turns into anger. I’m angry and it’s the only thing I’m going to let myself feel right now.  
“Stop.”  
“I love you, John Watson,” Sherlock’s voice is so…passionate, he means what he’s saying, but why? Why is he saying this? Of all the things to say in this moment, he decides to confess his love to me! This just makes me all the more angrier, I ball my hand into a fist, digging my nails into my skin. Control. Control.  
“You’re a monster,” I add the venom in my voice. I’m so furious with him. I have to restrain myself. My best friend is alive. I prayed for this. Why is pure rage running through me right now?  
There’s a long pause, which gives me the chance to calm down slightly. I don’t break my stare from Sherlock’s eyes. To be honest, I don’t want to look away, I’m afraid he’ll disappear again.  
“Could you ever love a monster?” Sherlock moves, closing the gap between us a little more. I stop him before he can get any closer, pushing the boy back.  
I don’t even stay to hear why he would do this. I turn and leave, heading to my flat.  
**  
I may be furious with Sherlock but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s good to see him alive. He’s alive. It’s hard to get that to sink in.  
Sherlock’s tried to contact me a couple of times since that evening in the alley. I’ve ignored his phone calls, and texts, hoping he’d give up. I’m just not ready to talk to him.  
This morning though…  
I open my eyes…  
“Good morning, John,” Sherlock is sitting in my chair just like it used to be. He’s alive…He’s breathing and he’s in my room, sitting at my desk.  
I have to be angry at him. He was supposed to be dead. I shake away the happiness that I feel to put on my angry face. I cannot forgive him just yet! Let him off easy? Pfft! Nope.  
“What are you doing in my room, Sherlock?” I ask getting up to get ready for school.  
“You know why. We didn’t finish our conversation yesterday,” Sherlock added. “The whole thing was an experiment.”  
“Sherlock,” I turn and look at the boy, “if you do not get out of my room, I will bash your head in.” I give him a smile then fix my tie and head for the door.  
“I wanted to see how hard it was to actually fake death. Just in case I need this trick for my future,” Sherlock explains before I can storm out the door.  
I turn and look at my friend.  
“So you hurt me. You hurt everyone who cares about you…for an experiment? Then. THEN, you come back and have the balls to say you love me!?” I shake my head in disbelief.  
“You’re my friend, of course I love you.”  
“Sherlock. Love is a- You really shouldn't just say it willy nilly, when ever,” I try and explain. I don’t really make much sense to myself at the moment and Sherlock doesn’t seem to be listening to me anymore.  
"Oh, I did it wrong?” Sherlock blinks a couple of times. When I don't answer him, which is because he just made my heart jump from my chest into my throat, he gets up and heads to my window.  
“Where are you going?”  
“To work on something. Carl Powers, you’ve heard of him?” Sherlock asks.  
“Yes, the boy who drowned in the swimming pool, what about him?” I ask, curious.  
“I don’t think it was an accident. I think he was murdered,” Sherlock smiles.  
“Murdered? Sherlock, you’re not a detective. Why are you getting involved in this?”  
“I knew Carl. I was lucky enough to be walking by the crime scene. I got a look. Carl had these shoes he always wore. They weren’t there. I asked around, everyone, his parents, his friends. They said he brought those shoes with him THAT DAY. So where could they have gone, John? It’s a murder case I know it. All I have to do now is find a way to get the police interested somehow,” Sherlock looks off into the distance, he’s been doing that. Before the fake death, he’d go into his little “mind palace,” for hours sometimes.  
“Sherlock, why would that make it a murder?”  
“Someone took the shoes, John,” Sherlock hops out the window. I sigh and shake my head. I swear it’s harder and harder everyday to understand what in the world is going on in his head.  
Talk about things going back to normal so quickly. Sherlock was on the news for awhile but not as long as I thought. People made a big deal at first about Sherlock’s death then it died as quickly as it began. He’s a selfish prick, it’s what everyone thought of him in the first place so nothing’s changed much. Besides the fact that more people hate him for that little stunt he pulled.  
Every morning now I wake up and Sherlock is there. He either has his face in a book, writing, talking to himself or just sitting there with his eyes closed. I never see him sleep or eat.  
This morning I tried to get him to eat some eggs before school. After the little row that we had, I made a deal with him; eat a little something and he can play the violin in my room all he wants, even when I’m sleeping.  
I was hoping he wouldn’t take the deal. Now I constantly hear the violin, not that it’s a bad thing, he’s really talented. Some days I love listening to it and then there’s other times, he’ll play random notes when he’s having a hard time thinking about something. Which wind up sounding like a thousand rats and cats dying at the same time.  
“Did you ever figure out if Carl was murdered or not?” I ask as we sit down on my floor eating some take out.  
“IF? John, he WAS murdered. I couldn’t get the cops to listen to me. Morons. It must have been poison of some kind,” Sherlock looks off into the distance as he explains this. I stuff some food in my mouth then look down.  
“Is this something you want to do with your life? Be a detective?” I ask pushing my food around.  
There was no answer from my friend. Sherlock just stared at the wall, then got up hopped out the window.  
"You know you can us the door!" I shake my head smiling to myself.  
**  
 _“John will forget everything. It’s what you wanted, no?"_  
“No, It’s not, you know bloody well it’s not.”  
“He’ll forget you, he’ll forget that kiss. He’ll forget all of it. And you know it’s for the best. Cause all you’re ever going to do, Sherlock, is cause him pain.”

**To be continued…**


	3. That Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John wants to take his and Sherlock's relationship further. Sherlock wants to move on with his life. Drugs and Sam only seem to be getting in between the two friends. Could John ever truly show how he feels for Sherlock?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longer chapter and the last that I had already written in Word. So the next and hopefully last chapter, I'll attempt to write on this site. :3 (i'm probably gonna start it after I post this chapter.) Anyway, I hope you enjoy if you stopped by just for something small to read. Comment if you have any questions! ( - `v`)-

“Sh-Sherlock!” I flatten my back to the building behind me, looking up at the sky, taking deep breaths. I can’t believe Sherlock has me doing this. I peek past the corner, watching my friend open the window to a detective’s house.

 

“Come on, John!” Sherlock whispers, a little too loudly, then hops into the window.

It’s been a couple of weeks since Sherlock faked his death. Now all he’s focused on is getting Scotland Yard to look further into Carl Powers’ case. I run up to the window and look inside.

“Sherlock!” I whisper, looking around. This has to be the worst possible idea ever. Yet I came along anyway. I put my hands on the windowsill and hop over, almost falling on my arse. The house is dark, I can’t see Sherlock anywhere and I don’t have a flashlight. As much as I want to call out Sherlock’s name, I stay silent.

‘You could have waited for me, you cock,” I think as I slowly get up and look around, I’m in the kitchen. My eyes are getting used to the dark. It’s a very well kept flat.

“What the bloody hell are you doing in my flat, Holmes?!”

I slap my hand over my eyes. Dammit, Sherlock. I could easily jump out the window and go back to my normal life, but I find my feet moving out of the kitchen and into the lighted living room. A man stands in front of Sherlock, holding a hand gun. My eyes stare at the gun, which, thank god, isn’t pointed at Sherlock.

“I almost shot you! You bloody idiot!” Lestrade runs a hand through his short brown hair, then walks back and forth, pissed. “This couldn’t have waited until I was on the job?!”

“NO. I’m tired of waiting, Gary! I tried to explain over and over again. Carl Powers-“

“ENOUGH WITH CARL POWERS!” Lestrade yells, cutting Sherlock off then adds, “and my name is Greg! Now get out of my flat!”

“I’m not leaving until you listen to me!”

“OUT.”

Sherlock and Lestrade stare down one another. I see Sherlock’s lips part to explain the whole situation but before he does, he looks at me, almost like he’s looking for my approval. ‘Should I go any further?’ I shake my head no. With that my friend looks down, defeated than walks past me in a huff. I look at Lestrade.

“I’m sorry about him…” I feel like I have to apologize for Sherlock all the time.

“I’m used to Sherlock. He bothers me at least once a day. Who are you?” Lestrade asks.

“A friend.”

“Really? I didn’t know he had any friends!” Lestrade smiles, “keep him safe. That boy is going to wind up getting himself into some danger one day and keep him out of my flat!” Lestrade waves me off.

I run to catch up with Sherlock, he’s pissed. He seems pissed anyway. It’s really hard to tell the difference.

“You’re mad?”

“Why would I be mad? No one observes. No one sees what’s in front of them. No one wants to listen to reason. Why should I be mad?” Sherlock rants as he crosses the street.

“Sh-“ I stop before I follow him waiting for a car to fly by. My eyes just watch my friend walk away. I want to catch up with him…

I want him to turn around…

Does he even care that I’m not behind him?

My eyes cast down to the ground. Not once did Sherlock turn. He just kept walking.

I wish I was the thing that was on his mind. I wish he thought of me as many times as I think of him.

I swallow the lump in my throat than call a taxi over.

Always swallow your emotions.

**

My eyes are locked on Sherlock. I sit two seats behind the sociopath in class. I honestly wasn’t expecting Sherlock to be in class today. When I woke up this morning my room was empty.

Is he mad at me? Does Sherlock Holmes, hold a grudge? I lean in my chair sighing a little. It’s almost tiring constantly worrying about him. Once the bell rings, I get up to follow Sherlock out, trying to grab the boys arm. Before I can, Tina walks in front of me. Tina is a girl who’s been hitting on me these past couple of days. I won’t lie, I have been throwing my John Watson charm at her. She heard me talking in class that I wanted to become a doctor and ever since then has been following me like a hawk.

“John!” She smiles sweetly at me, runs a hand through her chocolate brown hair, “I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me tonight? Maybe to dinner?” I smile. She’s sexy. Her hazel eyes are staring straight into mine. How could I say no?

“Sure. Though I think I’m the one who’s supposed to be asking you out,” I chuckle. Tina wraps her arm around mine and walks me to my next class.

I wasn’t expecting to wind up in the car with Tina. She parked it in front of my flat than crawled over and straddled me, kissing me before I could stop her. I lean my head back as her strawberry sweet tongue twirls with mine. My hand slides down the outside of her thigh to her really tight ass. She takes my face in both of her hands and kisses deeper, like she’s trying to eat me. My body wants her and it’s showing it too. But right in front of my flat?

Finally I find an opening.

“T-Tina, you want to come inside?” I ask, a little out of breath. Tina smiles wide.

“Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to be asking you that?”

As soon as my door is shut she’s all over me. I lay her down on the ground, kissing down her soft neck as she undoes my belt. Our hands are fast. She’s already got my pants half off. I wish I wore my boxers instead of my red, Hanes, briefs. I had no idea I was going to stop being a virgin tonight. Tina is now just wearing her purple bra and shorts. I have my eyes closed, kissing every part of her neck and chest, grinding my hips slowly against hers. I moan softly as my mind wonders. Oh, Sherlock…

His blushed cheeks, his eyes…those beautiful eyes, looking at me, needing me…wanting me. Sherlock…

“You really should think about using a condom.”

My eyes snap open and I’m thrust back into reality. I pull my lips away fast and look toward my bed. It’s dark in my room but I can see a silhouette sitting on my bed. Getting up, I turn my light on.

“SHERLOCK!” I’m flustered, I don’t even know what to do. “GET OUT!” I scramble to pull up my pants.

Tina gets up, pulling on her shirt, fixing her hair.

“Maybe we should do this another time…” Tina suggests. She kisses me on the cheek then walks out of my room. I chase after her.

“Tina! Wait!” I stop as she waves at me, wanting me to stay back, than spits,

“Queer!” The door slams behind her.

I storm into my room.

“What are you doing in my room!?” I ask furious with Sherlock.

“What do you mean? You said I was always allowed in your room.”

“OUT.”

“I saw you in the diner. I’ve told you time and time again John, OBSERVE. She just wanted to sleep with you to get over her ex-boyfriend, it’s a good thing I stopped it when I did,” Sherlock explains, lying down.

I stare in disbelief.

“You. You were at the diner? You were stalking me?” My anger is rising.

“Yes. It’s no big deal,” Sherlock closes his eyes.

“It is a big deal, Sherlock, it’s my privacy!”

“Privacy,” Sherlock scuffs then adds, “I was trying to help you.”

“I don’t need your help. I wanted to sleep with her. I’d like to NOT be virgin my whole life!”

“You didn’t want to sleep with HER. You were clearly thinking of someone else,” there he goes deducing things again. I could bash his skull into the wall. There’s a time and place for that.

“OH. Tell me how you think that?” I ask. He’s right. Of course he’s right, he’s always bloody right, that’s why it’s so amazing.

Sherlock gets off the bed than walks towards me. I want to stand my ground, but he’s getting closer and closer. My back hits my door. Sherlock puts his hand on it just beside my head. He leans in close to me, his turquoise eyes, stare into mine, stare straight through me.

My heart is pounding in my throat. His lips get so close to mine, I can feel his warm breath. My mind is so foggy, is this happening right now? Or am I dreaming again? Is Sherlock Holmes going to kiss me? I close my eyes, waiting for my friends soft lips.

“Because…you moaned my name,” Sherlock’s words are deep and soft. I open my eyes as Sherlock’s warmth leaves me. When did I- Well that explains the, ‘queer,’ comment. I rub my forehead. Hell.

Sherlock looks at me, his hands in his pockets.

“Can you just leave…please?”

“I don’t want to leave, I have things to read,” Sherlock gives me a huge smile.

“Let’s forget about this whole scene. Right?” I run my hand through my hair, only then do I realize I’m shaking. Why the bloody fuck am I shaking? Because…I can’t hide how I feel about Sherlock now. Now he knows. Sherlock KNOWS.

My eyes look up. Sherlock sits at my desk chair and opens a book. What am I feeling? The same feeling this boy always gives me. The way he moves. How he’s just sitting there in his jeans and that amazing purple striped, short sleeve shirt.

“How come you stopped us?” I ask, suddenly.

“What?”

“Why? You could have let us do it, what would it matter to you?”

Say it.

Say you care.

You love me back, Sherlock Holmes. You can deduce that I’m in love with you…but I can’t.

Show me.

“Irrelevant.”

“That’s not an answer Sherlock.”

“It is an answer.”

“It’s not a good one.”

Sherlock doesn’t say another word. He just keeps reading.

No.

Not this time.

I walk over, spin the chair and grip both of the arms tight. I lean over and look Sherlock straight in the eyes.

“I’m not stupid, you know,” I say in a low voice. Sherlock blinks a couple of times. He’s giving me his silence again.

This situation is confusing him. He’s buffering. I love when I can do this to him.

Come on, Sherlock. Say something. A smirk forms on my face. I’m not waiting anymore. I know he feels a little something for me.

I take Sherlock’s face in my hands, I stare in those beautiful eyes before I actually make the move, Sherlock is completely limp. I move his face up slightly and slowly move in to kiss those lips that I’ve yearned for the day we met.

His lips are soft, just like I knew they would be. I don’t close my eyes just to see if Sherlock closes his. He doesn’t, he keeps his eyes open. I’m destroying our relationship…but I want this…I want him. I can feel my heart pounding in my head. I have the power to stop this now. Stop it. 

Instead I turn my head, slip my tongue past Sherlock’s lips and into his warm mouth that taste like cigarettes. The bloody idiot is smoking again. I want to pull away and slap him for picking those up again, but my tongue has a different want. Slowly, I twirl my tongue around his. 

To my surprise, Sherlock’s nicotine tongue, dances with mine. Before I know it our tongues are entering in and out of each other’s mouths. The kiss gets hotter, deeper, slow and passionate. I grip his face harder, we pick the pace up, I turn my head to the other side, Sherlock’s hand runs up my neck and grips the back of my hair pulling my head into his more. Any harder and our lips would start to bleed.

Time just doesn’t exist when you’re making out. You don’t even keep track of your movements, you just move. I’m straddling Sherlock now. His pale hands are on my hips, my arms are wrapped around his shoulders and I’m making love to my best friend’s mouth. I can’t help but moan whenever I’m able to take a breath of air in. Even though it’s hard to breathe much, I don’t want to ever stop kissing him.

But something stops Sherlock and he parts his lips ever so slightly away from mine. We both pant lightly into each other’s mouths.

‘No…don’t- don’t stop…’

Every breath I take in, it’s like ecstasy. He’s like a drug. My drug…

I want him. My body aches for him. But I know we have to stop here. I don’t want to move though. I don’t want to stop listening to Sherlock’s pants. I find myself placing small kisses down Sherlock’s neck. I move my hand up the boy’s shirt too his nipple, twirling my thumb, softly, around it. Sherlock moves his head back against the chair, a small whimper coming out of his mouth.

I almost lose control. I want to attack him.

“J-John…” Sherlock whispers, breathless.

This stops all my movements. Like reality just slammed into me.

‘What am I doing?’

Sherlock’s a boy. He’s my best friend.

This was a mistake.

I pull away fast and look into Sherlock’s eyes. Sherlock’s cheeks are apple red. He’s looking at me confused.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t-“

“No it’s-“ Sherlock stops.

I push myself off of Sherlock.

We stay silent for the rest of the night. What I’ve done probably just destroyed our friendship.

I just destroyed the only thing I truly have in this world.

What have I done?

**

When I wake up the next more, Sherlock is nowhere to be found. I feel like a walking misery. Even though I hate missing school, today I had a good reason: I don’t want to see Sherlock. If I could avoid seeing him all together I would.

I fucked up…and I don’t think I can stand losing him. No, I know I couldn’t handle losing him.

So for the rest of the day, I sleep, eat, surf the web and write some of the things that happened last night in my journal.

2:30 in the afternoon I get a call from Mycroft. He tells me that Sherlock hasn’t been around and asks if he was over here.

“No, he must have left this morning,” I lean back in my chair and add, “he’s probably at the hospital, Mycroft.”

“He was here last night, John. He looked horrible. It was definitely a danger night.”

Sherlock waited until I fell asleep to leave then…

“You think so?” I get up and throw my black sweater on and slip into my shoes, “I’m going over to Barts right now.”

I hang up the phone and walk out the door.

When Sherlock gets upset about something, he always winds up at Barts. It’s 30 minutes away from here and I don’t know if he’s actually there, but I have to try.

When I show up, I ask around, YES, they’ve seen him! I walk into the room they let him sit in, a room that’s not used much. Sure enough, Sherlock is sitting on a stool, his eyes are closed and his hands are clasped together, resting under his chin. I walk over to him.

“Sherlock?” I sit in front of him and rest my arms on the table then repeat his name.

“Hm?” Sherlock answers without moving an inch. I shake my head.

“Look at me.”

“Go away, John.”

“DAMMIT, SHERLOCK, OPEN YOUR EYES!” I slam my hand on the table. Sherlock’s eyes open.

I knew it.

I push off the table, the stool slams to the ground.

“I BLOODY KNEW IT!” I shout, putting my hands on my hips, pacing back and forth. My blood is pumping now. He’s snorted coke before. I thought I taught him a lesson then, guess I was wrong. “Why? Why in the world would you do this?! Why didn’t you just stay with me! I told you I could help!”

Sherlock is too high to respond. I notice the needle on the table now. He injected?

“Piss off, John.”

I tilt my head in anger. My feet move fast, I grab Sherlock by the collar. The stool slams to the floor as I drag Sherlock until his back slams against the wall.

“DO YOU KNOW THIS STUFF COULD KILL YOU!? DO YOU KNOW I COULD LOSE YOU TO THIS- THIS-“ I raise my fist to hit him, but I control myself. Hitting him isn’t going to help. I let my friend go, looking away from him to the ground.

“What’s wrong? Can’t hit me?”

My head snaps up. Sherlock’s dilated eyes look into mine. I’ve heard that line before. Sam said that to me. Maybe they are more alike than I have thought.

“I don’t understand you Sherlock. Why are you doing this?” I ask.

“You understand very little, John.”

I gulp then shake my head and say,

“Does this have anything to do with last night?”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it?” Sherlock answers in a mocking tone. He walks past me and picks his stool up, sitting down.

“Ah! So this IS about last night!” I walk beside Sherlock. “Sherlock…” I calm myself down before I say anything else. “I was horny. I didn’t mean it.”

“YOU’RE ALWAYS MAKING EXCUSES!” Sherlock’s voice echo’s through the room. I stare at my friend, shocked.

“I-“

“Make up your mind, John, because after you, I’m finished with this, this whole, ‘emotions’ and ‘feelings’! It’s only slowing me down!” Sherlock looks at me as he spits his hate. I scuff and say,

“So I’m slowing you down?”

“Good-bye, John!”

“Yeah…fine. I won’t slow you down anymore,” I storm across the room and out the door, slamming it.

As soon as I walk outside, I scream. Thank god there’s no one around. Sometimes I don’t even think he considers me his friend.

I decide to just walk away and let him do what he wants. He clearly doesn’t need me there. As I turn the corner, Sherlock bumps into me.

“Sherloc-“ It’s not Sherlock, it’s Samuel, “what are you doing here?”

“I made a drug. I was just going to go test it on my brother,” Sam takes out a needle and taps it against his palm, “isn’t it beautiful, John? This will show Mycroft. I’m not as stupid as he says.”

“What does it do?” I ask, I’m not letting this boy walk past me with that needle. I won’t let him near Sherlock.

“Want to find out?” Sam gets closer to me, smirking.

“NO. Sherlock doesn’t want to find out either.”

Sam walks past me. No. I know Sherlock to well, he’ll test that drug, what if it kills him? I have to stop this. I grab Sam’s arm.

“Give it to me. Now,” I demand. Sam laughs and says,

“What makes you think I’m just handing this over? I worked too hard to make this!” Sam hisses and pulls his arm away harshly. “I have to show them I’m as smart as them!”

I grab Sam’s hand and try to take the needle out. I’m able to knock it to the ground, before I could pick it up, Samuel pulls a gun on me. I stop in my tracks.

“Back away. I will kill you John Watson. I have no problem with that. I always wanted to know what it feels like to kill,” Sam explains in a low dark voice. I hold my hands up. Sam picks it up turns and walks toward the hospital.

“I’ll take it.”

Sam stops then turns with a huge smirk on his face.

**

“JOHN!! JOHN LOOK AT ME!” A voice shouts above the rest. Who is it?

“Uh…” The only thing that’s able to come out of my mouth. My head is pounding. I can hardly feel my body. As I open my eyes the blurry face in front of me spins. I slowly shut them again, I feel like I’m going to puke.

“NO! DON’T CLOSE- Don’t shut your eyes! Keep your eyes on me!” I know that’s Sherlock’s voice, I can feel him take my face in his hands. I can’t- I just want the pounding in my head to stop. I feel like I’m being choked, it’s hard to get air into my lungs.

“Sh-“ Sherlock…please make this stop.

“LOOK AT ME JOHN!”

I can’t…Sherlock…I love you, don’t say good-bye.

“Don’t- you can’t leave me- don’t leave me! John-“

You big…doofus. I’d never leave you…

“John…”

~

They get John to the hospital as soon as they can. Mycroft looks at Samuel, disgusted.

“You said I was stupid. I MADE that!” Sam yells, proud of himself.

“What is it, exactly, do you even know?” Mycroft asks. Sam stays silent. “You have just proved my point even further, brother mine.” Mycroft walks away from both of his brother’s back to his office. Sherlock gives Sam a death glare.

“Why…? Why would you do this?” Sherlock asks, digging his nails into the palm of his hand.

“What did big brother say to us Sherlock? Don’t. Get. Involved. Human error. That’s all it is. It’ll be the death of you one day.” Sam explains. “John’s only going to hurt you. I refuse to see that happen.”

“Stay out of my life!”

“You’re the one who came to me and said you wish you had never met John Watson,” Sam holds up a new needle with blue liquid inside of it. A smile forms on Sam’s face.

“John will forget everything. It’s what you wanted, no?”

“No, It’s not, you know bloody well it’s not,” Sherlock looks away from the needle. His drugged mind did say that last night. His turquoise eyes look back at the needle…

“He’ll forget you, he’ll forget that kiss. He’ll forget all of it. And you know it’s for the best. Cause all you’re ever going to do, Sherlock, is cause him pain,” Samuel giggles. “I worked really hard on it Sherlock, I’m sure it works.”

Sherlock stays silent, his eyes fixed on the needle in front of him. He extends his arm, reaching for the needle…

 

**To be continued…**


	4. Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock knows this is the last straw. John Watson will never forgive him...Not this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter! I really hope you enjoyed it! :]

_“John, there’s something I should say…I uh, meant to say always and I never have. Since it’s unlikely we’ll ever meet again, I might as well say it now.”_  
**  
I wake up to silence. It takes a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the bright room. I can say I feel like someone took a hammer and hit me in the head a couple of times. This is what I do for that cock and he doesn’t even have the decency to be here.   
Rubbing my eyes I look around, take in the room that they’ve left me in. This is the hospital my father works in. Dandy. Papa is going to be so furious with me. I don’t even want to think about the wonderful drug talk he’s going to give me. My hand falls from my face to the bed, defeated.  
IF he has time for me.  
My eyes stare at the wall in front of me as I listen to silence.   
Alone.  
No flowers, no balloons, no sister, no mother…no friend.  
Always alone.  
I lean my head back into my pillow and close my eyes to stop the tears that are threatening to escape. I hate crying. It makes me feel weak.  
I can stand on my own two feet. I don’t need anyone. I’m strong. I’m John Hamish Watson.  
After a few moments of silence, I stretch my arm around my eyes and let the tears go, I can’t even control myself. I can hear my small whimpers echo the bright white walls of the hospital room. In that moment I hate myself.   
I hate myself for yelling at Sherlock.  
I hate myself for kissing Sherlock.  
I hate myself for not being able to control my anger.  
I hate myself for not being able to help my mother.  
I hate myself for being the type of brother who abandons his sister because I don’t agree with her actions.  
I hate myself for hating my father because he refuses to pay attention to me.  
…  
I hate myself for loving the only friend I have. I start to sob, this time I don’t try to silence my whines and gasps. Mark this moment as the last time I ever cry like this. I won’t ever let myself be this weak again.   
**  
Going home was pleasant. I walk into a row between my mother and my sister. I ignore it, walking straight to my room. It’s nice to be greeted after you’ve been in the hospital for a day. I close my door and lean against it. I don’t feel sad this time though, I feel anger.  
I’m so glad that my parents care so much about me. Walking around the corner I see the back of a familiar friend sitting at my desk. A smile forms across my face.  
Sherlock Holmes.   
Where have you been you dickhead?  
“Your mother and sister have been fighting for a good hour or so. Something about Harry liking girls,” Sherlock turns in the chair and smiles, “how are you feeling?”  
“Yeah, not bad,” I answer rubbing the back of my neck then find my way to my bed, lying down, “they always fight about that.”   
“When did we take that picture?” Sherlock asks, changing the subject. I don’t have to look around to know which one he’s talking about.   
I hung a picture, the only picture of me and Sherlock, on my wall next to my bed. It was the day he decided to take me to London. It almost felt like a date to me. Really it was just Sherlock breaking into a murder scene, so he could, “experiment”. It was the time of my life though. Sneaking around, running from the cops, seeing a corpse for the first time.   
Watching Sherlock unravel the whole entire scene…like he was there the night the poor old lady had been murdered. It was fantastic. He’s a genius. Sherlock puts those professionals to shame and he’s only a 17 year old boy.  
We had just eaten dinner. I caught him off guard and took a selfie with him. I’m smiling and he’s looking at the camera like it’s some foreign equipment.  
“You don’t remember that? We got caught snooping around the crime scene and ran for it,” I chuckle, “it was so easy to out run them.”  
“Ah, yes. Lestrade tripped over a fire hydrant falling flat on his face,” me and Sherlock giggle together. I sit up, smiling, glad to have my best friend around. Sherlock smiles back but his smile fades fast, looking toward the ground.  
“I’m sorry for what my brother did to you. Mycroft gave him a punishment,” Sherlock apologizes in a low voice.  
“Don’t worry about it.”  
“You took that drug so I wouldn’t, why?”  
“It was a drug Sam clams he, ‘made’,” I lay back down, “I knew you’d experiment it. What if it killed you?”  
“What if it killed you?”  
I lean my head up to look at Sherlock.  
“What if it did? Who would care, Sherlock?” I scuff, “honestly? Who would miss me?”  
Sherlock’s beautiful sea colored eyes look up, straight into mine.  
“I would.”  
I stare at my friend, in disbelief that he’s being so open about his feelings.   
Sherlock gets up and walks over to the bed. He leans over, rests his hand next to my face then leans in close to me. I rest my head on my pillow, my lips apart, heart pounding out of my chest.  
“John,” Sherlock’s voice when he says my name is soft and loving. I close my eyes, hoping he never stops saying it. Sherlock’s lips touch mine ever so lightly. I put my hand on Sherlock’s pale cheek. My friend’s lips press harder against mine. I take Sherlock’s face in both of my hands now, sliding my tongue in the boy’s mouth. Sherlock crawls over me moving his leg in between mine.  
To my surprise the boy unbuttons my plaid shirt. I open my eyes when I feel Sherlock’s lips leave mine.  
“I love you, John Watson,” Sherlock confesses in a whisper. I can only stare in response. “I’m pretty sure this is a better moment to say those words. Am I wrong?”  
I blink a couple of times. I’m speechless. Sherlock just smiles then leans down and kisses my neck over and over again. I finally come to my senses, take Sherlock’s shoulders and roll him so he’s lying on his back and I’m on top. I pull off my shirt and throw it to the ground. In the back of my mind I know mum and Harry are in the other room, but I choose to ignore it. I plant kisses all over Sherlock’s soft skinny neck, sucking and licking every inch of bare skin.  
I’m in love with this boy beneath me. People can say over and over again that it’s wrong to love the same sex. Hell, mum says it almost every day. For the longest time I believed it. I was pissed when Harry told me she was gay. I thought, ‘how could she do this to me?’ It’s amazing how selfish I was cause now I get it…I’m happy when I’m around him.   
I’m me.  
Without Sherlock Holmes, I’m broken…  
**  
 _“He’s joining the army.”_  
 _“John was supposed to be a doctor!”_  
 _“Course he’s a doctor! I studied with him! He’s going to be an army doctor from now on!”_  
 _“What if he gets shot?”_  
 _“Relax, Sherlock.”_  
*  
 _“It’s your fault, why in the world did you bring him to me, Mike?”_  
 _“Cause he needs you Sherlock! You need him. You need to make this right.”_  
*  
 _“What you did was wrong Sherlock and now you have to be a man and tell him.”_  
 _“I don’t have to tell him anything, Mycroft.”_  
 _“Would you rather have him hear it from Samuel’s lips? Either way…brother dear, he will NEVER forgive you.”_  
 _“-NEVER forgive you. Not this time, Sherlock.”_

 _“John…there’s something-”_  
**  
We made love…it wasn’t just sex. I always imagined my first time being meaningless and forgetful, this was so much more. I’ll never forget it.  
I’ll never forget Sherlock moaning my name. I’ll never forget our whispers of love to each other, the sound of our pants echoing through the room, how it felt to be inside him. The way the bed tapped the wall, the way Sherlock’s eyes looked into mine, the way he wrapped his legs around my body, wanting more of me.   
In that moment I was the only thing on my friends mind. No experiments, no crime scenes.   
It didn’t last long though. Five minutes into our cuddling, Sherlock is back into his mind palace. I can see him slipping away from me, his eyes staring at the ceiling. I lean over Sherlock and kiss his forehead.  
“Hey, come back to me,” I whisper. Sherlock’s eyes look into mine, I smile, “don’t go yet Sherlock.”  
Sherlock doesn’t say a word as he moves out from under the sheets and starts to throw his clothes on. I sit up and watch, running a hand through my crazy hair. I part my lips to say something, anything to make Sherlock stay with me. Instead I reach my hand out and grab his.   
My friend doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t move. The silence between us is haunting. I swallow the lump down and let my hand fall. I watch as my Sherlock jumps out the window.   
I don’t see Sherlock for the next couple of days.   
Not until I meet up with Samuel the week after…and follow him into the woods…Like a twat.  
**  
“I wanted to do this to you. You don’t know how much it turns me on seeing you on the ground, bleeding,” Samuel’s laugh stings my head. I look up at his bruising face. I did a number on it before he brought one of his friends into the picture.   
I slam my fist to the ground and attempt to lift my aching body. The metallic taste in my mouth is starting to make me nauseous. I spit most of it to the ground as I attempt to stand on my feet again.   
“I’m going to enjoy tearing your skin apart,” Sam shows me the knife. I don’t have a weapon. Fear starts to cloud my head, nothing to protect me, no one to protect me.  
I shouldn’t have followed him here. I had no idea he was this sick in the head. He’s going to kill me…I’m going to die here. What will he do after, burry my body deeper into the woods? Burn me then burry my ashes so no one ever finds me?   
My eyes dart to the right of me, I don’t want to die like this. I don’t want this to be my final resting place.   
I could attempt to run in that direction. As long as I don’t trip I should be able to lose him. My eyes dart back at Sam’s little helper. He’s too big, I could lose him faster than I could lose Sam, not a threat.   
I dash as fast as I can, I’ve been jogging after school this shouldn’t be a problem. I could hide behind one of the trees, it’s dark enough.   
But as I’m running and just as I’m feeling a little hopeful, something stabs into my shoulder which brings me to my knees.   
“Ow! FUCK!” I grip my shoulder, it feels like- the knife, the bloody psycho threw the bloody knife! Sam steps in front of me. I glare up at him, his smug smile, that face that resembles my best friends, it’s enough to make me puke. “You’re a sick fuck,” I spit with hate. Sam punches me in the face. I hit the ground, the world spinning. He starts kicking my stomach, I try to block the blows with my arms, but I start to go numb.  
Sherlock…Where are you?  
Sam rips the knife out of my shoulder, turns me so I’m on my back. The boy straddles me so I can’t move my legs then runs the blade across his tongue, licking my blood off it with a chuckle. I grab the dirt in my hand and throw it into the Samuel’s eyes. I’m not helping my situation. In fact, I made it worse.  
But oh, it was so worth it. A smirk crawls across my face as I watch Samuel scramble to get the dirt from his eyes, cursing me. When I can, I grab both of Sam’s wrists and attempt to throw him off of me. He keeps his strength, pushing me back with the same force.  
Sam’s power overwhelms me. I can feel my arms falling until he pins my wrists to the ground. He moves in closer and whispers with hate,  
“Now, now, be a good little boy Johnny. My brother’s maybe smart, but I’m street smart. I’ve been learning all these neat moves with this little knife,” Sam grins, “I also have been studying the places I can stab you and still keep you alive through most of it.” Sam releases my wrists than, swiftly, stabs the knife in my other shoulder, I scream out, which is only turning Sam on more. He puts the knife to my throat next.  
“Keep screaming, John Watson, it’s like honey to my ears. I won’t let you take my brother away from me.” Sam’s lap dog walks closer, shining the flashlight on us. This time Sam stabs the knife into the side of my stomach. I bite my lip trying not to give this psycho anymore pleasure. Yet the pain is almost too much to take. I let out a small whimper, my eyes tearing. I’m not going to survive this…  
 _‘Sherlock…I’ve only known you for six months but it seems like a life time. I’m so glad I met you. Please don’t blame yourself for this…I know damn well that you will. You’re the wisest human being I have ever known, don’t ever stop being you. I love you so much. Oh, and one more thing, don’t let this twat get away with this, right? I’m sure you’ll take one good look at him and you’ll know what he did to me. You’re that brilliant. I hope one day you become everyone’s hero. I hope they see you the way I did. Hell, I know one day they will. Good-bye, Sherlock.’_  
I almost let myself go after those parting thoughts, but shouting makes me hang on a little longer. I open my eyes, Sam’s not on me anymore.   
“BACK OF SAM, NOW!”  
“Shut up! This is what you wanted!!”  
“NO, IT’S NOT!”  
“Samuel, come with me, now.”  
“No…Not this time Mycroft.”  
“Please, Sam…You’re my little brother. I want to protect you. You have to stop this.”  
“Mycroft, he’s beyond protecting! He’s a monster! Look at what he’s done to John!”  
Sherlock leans over me and smiles when he sees I’m still with him. He presses his hand against the wound on my side.  
“John…You’ll be okay, the ambulance are on their way,” Sherlock whispers to me. I reach up and put my hand on Sherlock’s face. “This is my fault, John. I’m so sorry. If you had never met me, none of this would have happened.”  
 _‘See? I knew you’d blame yourself, doofus.’_  
I want to say to Sherlock: I’d go through hell to keep on being with you. I’d do anything for you but before I do, I slip into darkness.  
**  
 _“I might have to move out of London.”_  
 _“What about a flat-mate?”_  
 _“I’ve had six already. I’m a difficult man to find a flat-mate for.”_  
**  
I was only in the hospital for a week. I honestly didn’t want to leave. My father was my doctor and Sherlock never left my side. It was the best week I’ve had in a long time.  
Sherlock and I walk into my room. When the door closes I put my arms around my friend and kiss his lips over and over again. We make out moving toward the bed. Sherlock spins just before we fall so I’m the one landing on my back. The boy’s sea colored eyes stare into mine before we kiss again. My tongue dances around Sherlock’s mouth, I love how Sherlock tastes.   
I feel a small pinch in my neck, but before I could pull away to say something, Sherlock kisses me harder. Half way through the kiss I start to feel sick to my stomach. I place my hands on Sherlock’s chest and push him off, running to the garbage, puking.   
“I’m s-sorry…I’m-“ I cough a little. The can in front of me is spinning. I shut my eyes, rubbing them. “I don’t feel good, Sherlock. I’m s-sorry.” I can feel Sherlock rubbing my back.  
“Come on…Why don’t you lie down?” My friend helps me to my bed. He pulls the covers over me. I keep my eyes closed, I suddenly feel super weak like I haven’t slept in years.  
“John…Look at me,” Sherlock demands. I open my eyes slightly, at least he stopped spinning but he’s voice is echoing…  
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, weakly.  
“Don’t- Don’t apologize. I don’t have much time. I’m sorry I had to do this to you. You are too good of a person, John Watson. Knowing me will only hurt you and I can’t bare that anymore. I’m better off alone,” Sherlock explains. I sit up, despite how weak I feel.  
“What? What the fuck are you saying, Sherlock?” I grab Sherlock’s collar, “What. Did. You. Do?”  
“Human error, John. I fell to deep for you,” Sherlock smiles a weak, fake, smile. I want to punch him in the face.  
“HUMAN ERROR!? THAT’S BULLSHIT, SHERLOCK AND YOU KNOW IT!” I shout and push Sherlock away from me.   
“Alone will protect you, John, it protects me,” Sherlock stands as he says this.  
“You protect me. Friends protect people! Sherlock!” I plea, “what did you do to me?!” I don’t have the energy to hold back my tears.   
Don’t…  
Say this isn’t happening…  
Everything was just so perfect? Why is this happening?!  
“It’s a drug. Like Alzheimer. Don’t worry you’ll only forget a year, maybe a little less. It just erases the small part of memory,” Sherlock explains this to me like it’s a perfectly normal thing for him to do. I don’t even know what to say or do. I sharp pain pounds in my head.   
How do I get the drug out of me?  
How do I make this stop?  
Sherlock! I don’t want to forget you!  
God! Don’t make me forget you!!  
I need you.  
I grip my head with both of my hands then lay down. My hands fall to my sides as I stare at my ceiling, tears streaming down my face.  
“God, Sherlock…What have you done?” I grip my hand into a tight fist until it shakes, until it feels like my bones will shatter, my nails ripping into my skin.   
“How could you do this? Why would you-”   
“I…I love you. I can’t have you die. I can’t lose you. I’d rather you forget me and live your life then be with me and suffer,” Sherlock says. He leans in to kiss me.   
I move my head to the side, denying the kiss.  
“I hate you.” I just stare at the picture that I took of me and Sherlock, the best day of my life. The day I wish never ended…  
Why was I crying?  
I slowly close my eyes and fall asleep.  
~  
Sherlock doesn’t hesitate to take the picture off the wall. The boys eyes look down at the sleeping John…   
He kisses John’s lips softly, tears falling from Sherlock’s onto John. Sherlock rests his forehead against his best friends.  
“You’ve changed my life, John Watson. Remember that conversation we had, late at night? I told you I wanted to be a pirate. You told me I should be a detective. I told you how much I can’t stand working with people. You joked and said I should become the only consulting detective in the world. I never knew in my life that I could ever put my talent to use. I was going to waste away in my drugged up mind. You showed me that I could be something in this world other than a freak. I am a monster, John Watson. But you loved me anyway…You’re everything to me and I love you. I’m sorry I had to do this to you. I had to save you from me.”   
Sherlock stands then heads out the window.  
As Sherlock walks into his flat, Mycroft steps in from the living room and says,   
“Sherlock, you’ve better have used that drug on his family too.” Sherlock walks past his older brother to his room. “I told you not to get involved, little brothr.”  
“Shut up, Mycroft,” Sherlock slams his door shut.  
**  
 _ **22 Years later**_  
“Moriarty brought a little friend, Sherlock,” Mycroft whispers to his little brother as he walks off the plane.  
“Who?”  
“Our wonderful brother,” Mycroft’s eyes look toward John and Mary standing by the car. Sherlock stops walking, his eyes never leaving John. “You should have told him, Sherlock. I thought you were going to-”  
“I was. I changed my mind.”  
“Well now you have to tell him. If he comes into contact with Samuel and you know very well he will, our wonderful brother will blow your little secret,” Mycroft continues, “I’m saying this because I know how you feel for John Watson. He will never forgive you. It’s best coming from your mouth.”  
Sherlock straightens up as he watches his best friend walk straight toward him.  
John Watson. The man Sherlock could never let go. He’s tried twice and still always found his way back to him.  
“John-”  
“I missed you,” John interrupts. Sherlock smiles and they both laugh together.  
“I’ve only been gone four minutes!”  
“That’s long enough,” John smiles. Sherlock and John stare into each other’s eyes until Mycroft clears his throat and Mary steps up next to John.  
“Ah, Mary, I might have to take your husband away for a little while. We have some stuff to discuss,” Sherlock smiles looking back at John.  
“Well I hope you don’t take him away from me for too long,” Mary smiles. A fake smile forms on Sherlock’s lips.  
“Don’t worry…After this conversation…I’m sure he’ll never speak to me again.”  
~  
 _When Mike came in that day, two years ago, with you, John, I lost all hope of letting you go. I moved to London hoping I wouldn’t see you ever again. I figured you being in the army, it would never happen. Yet there you were, standing in front of me. 20 years…All my efforts and there you were. It was hard to pretend. My heart was beating out of my chest. I tried to ignore you, but all I kept thinking about was how lucky I was to have you in front of me again. As I go to walk away, you scared me-_  
 _“Is that it?”_  
 _I thought for a second that you remembered me. Instead you gave me that John Watson attitude that I remember so clearly.  
So yes, I admit it, I did my little deduction on you to impress you. I knew it would, hook line and sinker._  
 _It was okay for us to be friends, but I was never going to let it go any further than that. I was never going to make that mistake again. Love is found on the losing side._   
_That’s why I didn’t tell you I was alive those two years. I knew you were about to get too close to me. I knew you were ready to tell me you loved me._  
So I found Mary, paid her to get close to you, I knew she was your type, I knew you two would hit it off. You have to give me credit John, it worked. Only two years, you and Mary were getting married. You still think I haven’t a clue about love?   
_Yes, I regretted it. I came back. I wasn’t supposed to come back to London. I wasn’t supposed to see you again. But, like before, I found I couldn’t stay away from you._   
_I made it a little too obvious at the wedding, didn’t I, that I wanted you all to myself?_  
 _John…no words could ever fix what I’ve done to you. I truly am a monster and John…_  
 _…I was wrong. I was always wrong about human error._  
 _Your love made me stronger than I have ever been in my life._  
 _It kept my heart beating._  
 _I should have never let you go. I know telling you this now isn’t going to stop you from walking away from me forever…_  
 _But at least I did it right this time._  
 _I wish I could go back to the beginning, I wish I could fix this and make you mine. But it’s over now. I guess I’d be lucky if I even got to see you on the streets._  
 _One thing will never change though, NEVER._  
 _I, my dear John Hamish Watson, will always love you, always._  
 _Good-bye._

_**The End.** _


End file.
